


The Challenges and Rewards of Changeling Courtship

by a3rie, editoress, FoxLight, Legionnaire24601



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Ambiguous timelines, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Romance, but like... mild smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a3rie/pseuds/a3rie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/editoress/pseuds/editoress, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxLight/pseuds/FoxLight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legionnaire24601/pseuds/Legionnaire24601
Summary: a series of short shippy shenanigansa night ina night outa night.





	1. Tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be the results of more than two weeks of round-robin style turn taking and musings. We had a lot of fun creating these little stories and hope you enjoy them!  
> This first chapter is the only one with smutty content. If oral sex is one of your squicks, feel free to skip to chapter 2.

Walter jumped as the basement door flung open unexpectedly. 

He sat on the old battered couch that had once been centerpiece in the Lake living room but had since been relocated to what was now unanimously considered "Draal's room." The blue troll in question was nowhere to be seen, off on some business down in Trollmarket. Which, as Walter soon found out, was a fortuitous thing indeed.

He had been about to stand, having just placed his book on the ground, when Barbara launched herself at him. A startled "oof" left his lips but nothing else could follow as she pressed her mouth firmly against his.

His surprise lasted only a moment and then his hands found her back, drawing her closer. Her hips pressed into his as her momentum forced them backwards. Ever willing, the changeling let her guide them. The hand on her back slid down, diving beneath the top of her scrubs to splay itself along the skin below. Grunts and gasps filed out of his throat when her lips found his neck. 

“Where is this...” the ragged strands of his voice dangled limply the air. “Where is this coming from?” It was then that his fingers found the lace: some silky, scandalous underthing that skirted the definition of bra for all of the cloth it lacked. If her attentions on his hips and along his neck hadn’t already been enough, he certainly felt a jolt iof arousal now. “And what,” he added in sultry, somewhat recovered tones, “is _this_?" 

“They kept me four hours past my shift.” She breathed beside his mouth, planting a kiss where she spoke. “ _Four_ hours past the point where I was ready for you to find it. Do you have any idea what that is like?”

His smile was devious. He placed a kiss to the underside of her chin, an easy mark given how she straddled him. "Oh, I might. But there's something to be said for having to wait for payoff. A little longing, a little teasing..."

She cut him off by combing her fingers through his hair and kissing him again. A soft chuckle escaped him and soon he was running his hands through her hair and down her back, pulling her in even closer. Enjoying the soft press of the curve of her body, his lips trailed along the skin of her neck.

Her breaths, at first fluttered like wingbeats in response, grew deeper as he worked toward her sternum. When he arrived, his nose struggled to push past the V of her neckline. A chime-like laugh bubbled out of her when he grunted in disappointment. 

“Oh, you thought I’d make this easy for you?” she said, pulling back to sit on her heels as she straddled his hips. The line of her lips canted into a smirk.

“What was that you said about waiting for payoff?” Both hands reached down to grasp each strap around his belt buckle, as though holding a set of reins; her thumbs smoothed over the metal clasp at the center. “A little longing, a little teasing...” Walter’s eyes promptly bulged, as did that lower extremity that was so very, very glad to be receiving her attentions at the moment. (Or not receiving them, given her coyness.) She noticed, biting those small lips of hers in a way he found utterly beguiling. 

The thought to say something appropriately luring nudged into his mind, but was promptly cut off by the sensation of fingers rolling down his inner thigh. Purposefully, she avoided his center. Green eyes squeezed shut. He was certain he saw flashes of light. He was also certain that he had to get revenge…

He forced himself to relax, a long and determined exhale as he willed his body to untense. His legs spread further apart, widening the gap between Barbara’s own thighs where she was perched. The shift in her center of gravity tilted her back to him, and he pushed back into the cushion as much as the couch would allow so that she was nearly lying on him. 

He was still hard and straining against the fabric of his pants but he did not let that distract him from his new mission. Returning her teasing in kind, he followed the inseam of her thigh but stopped before nearing her core and diverted instead to back under her shirt-- gently skirting along her flank with blunt nails to draw out a shiver. He kissed her again, parting her lips with is own and his hands slid lightly across her stomach and around her waist. Tugging her bottom lip between his, Walter palmed the back of her thighs to bring her securely into the hard press of his body before lurching forward and flipping her down onto the couch.

His eyes flashed, predatory and otherworldly, before he pulled back to gaze over the rumpled mess of her scrubs. Thin lips pressed into a languid smile, “You should know that patience,” he said demurely as he reached to tug her shirt up and over head, “has always been my greatest strength.”

She lifted her arms to help him, and the last of the pins holding her hair fell away with the friction. Magma erupted across the pearly expanse of her chest, and though centuries-old, he nearly forgot he had a tongue to speak with. Barbara’s giggle swept him from his reverie.

“Greatest strength, you say?” 

“Indeed.” he said, expression growing devilish. Tilting forward, he bent down to nip at one of the laces of her bra, plucking it with his teeth as though it were a stringed instrument. A note rang out, that of her keen-like moan as his teeth slid down her rib-cage.

“I can certainly teach you my ways.” The changeling paused, and then sucked along the valley of her hips, laughing when she rocked. “A lesson in patience, if you will. All you need is proper guidance, and the right _instructor_."

“You’re a tease,” she panted as her fingers found his hair again.

“You started it,” he pointed out. He bit her hip lightly and then licked from the indent of his teeth to her navel. With deliberate slowness he pulled her bottoms down, taking her underwear in the same go. She was already wet as he spread her open. He blew lightly against her exposed core and she jolted in his grasp. 

“Walt--”

“There, there. All in good time,” he pressed his lips to one inner thigh and then the other. He met her gaze then winked as one hand slid beneath her to pinch her butt playfully. She jumped again, laughing as she squirmed away from his fingers. 

“Not there, hm? How about _here_ , then,” he ran a single digit along her seam, gliding up into her. 

When he removed his fingers, he smiled against her thigh as she let loose a small grumble. The grumble turned into a sharp inhale when his hand slipped across her stomach and then over her breast, teasing at her nipple just as he bends low to kiss her lightly. He had to hold her hands when they threatened to tightly thread through his hair. He pressed them firmly into the couch.

“What… happened,” she gave a small laugh, “to all in good time?” In response Walt leaned back and rested his cheek against her leg. 

“If you insist.” Barbara frowned at the smirk he sent her along with his words. He laughed before letting go of her hands and and sweeping his palms down her calves and pressing her legs apart. As his mouth found her, his heart beat triumphantly when the muscles of her thighs clenched and a low moan escaped from her throat.

Before things could escalate any further, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed up the passage connecting the Lake's basement to the sewer system. The two hardly had time to look at each other in startled realization. Barbara scrambled for her shirt while Walter pulled up her pants at triple the speed he had removed them. 

"Stricklander! I ha-- oh. Good evening, Barbara," Draal greeted as he shifted aside the heavy curtain that now blocked off his tunnel entrance. The large troll stopped in mid-step and sniffed the air with a raised brow. He focused a squinted, suspicious look at the couple on the couch.

Draal, only familiar with troll side of these scents, frowned and crossed his arms, “Stricklander, you should stop trying to impress upon Barbara. She does not want to mate with you.”

Barbara bit her lip to stop from laughing but couldn’t help the small snort of amusement that escaped her. Walter raised one brow and looked at her from his periphery. 

“Of course. Whatever was I thinking.” He watched as the troll nodded, taking his sarcasm at face value. When Draal turned his back, Walter leaned over to whisper, “I suppose a little more patience will be the order of the evening.”


	2. Tipsy Tomatoes

They had learned their lesson. If they wanted privacy, it was better to seek time alone together outside of the house.

The first half of the night had been traditional and lovely. Dancing and dinner was a combination she had never been treated to before. Walter had been light on his feet and led her around the floor with an ease that should not have surprised her. With his guidance, her own clumsiness was kept at bay and they'd swept across the room in a swirl of skill and laughter. 

Dinner had been procured from a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place where the plates had overflowed and so had the wine. Already a bit tipsy, but the night still young, the two made their way through the streets of Downtown Arcadia arm in arm. The neon of a sign caught Barb's attention at the same time that the live jazz caught Walter's.

Barbara's eyes barely made out the band at the back of the hazy, golden light of the club. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly when the trumpet puttered playfully in staccato bursts through the warm air following the light rise and fall of the piano that ran along in harmony with the low soulful voice of the singer. 

"Enjoying yourself darling?” Walter murmured against her temple. Barbara smiled as he slid his arms around her waist and drew her against his chest.

"I have something to tell you," Barbara said, just loud enough to be heard over the music. Walter's eyes nearly glowed as they met hers. Certainly the green of his irises looked unnaturally bright in the dim lighting. 

"What is it?" 

Her smile widened into a grin, "I don't know how to dance jazz, either." 

He laughed, caught off guard by her confession. He pulled her closer and muffled the sound in her hair. 

"Well, then," he decided, "I'll just have to continue to be a very good teacher."

He tugged her through the dense rows of tables and to the small area in front of the band that had been cleared for dancing. There were only three other couples on the floor swaying along to the beat-- all of them notably younger than Barbara and her date. 

Walter spared a brief moment to roll his eyes at the sluggish attempts of the other dancers before turning back to Barbara with a cocky grin. 

“Remember my leading from earlier? It’s going to be much like that but then some. I trust you to keep up, you may trust me to catch you.” 

“Catch me?”

But they were already moving. She watched him with a helplessly dopey smile as he backed onto the dance floor, swaying his hips to the thrum of the music. She was nervous but they were already moving and she hadn’t made a fool of herself the first time so she prepared to follow him once more. 

She’d seen it enough times on television to recognize the swing in his step and a giddy thrill ran through her to know that he would have been there when this style of dance first came into popularity. She was now grateful for the wine for the extra boost of courage and a loosening of limbs when he grabbed her arms and launched her into a series of swooping dips and lifts. 

“Get it old man!” Someone in the crowd yelled with a whoop.

Barbara tried not to focus on their audience and instead lost herself to the band and the green of Walt’s eyes. He grinned and leaned in, his feet never slowing as he whispered, “Roll with it.”

Which was all the warning she got before she was passed over his shoulders to a trumpet blare. She literally rolled across his back and landed laughing, his arms already swinging under and spinning to face her again. Sweat rolled down one side of his face and his hair was falling loose from its usual quaff in some places. 

She was beginning to feel a little dizzy and breathless herself, trying to focus on moving her feet in what she could only hope passed for on beat. She wasn’t even going to attempt the level of movement Walt’s lower half was tapping out as he led them around. 

He brought his face in close again, “Going up, two kicks.” 

She didn’t have time to doubt as he swung her into the air. She laughed out loud, giddy and undignified as she gave a single kick as he lifted her above him with seemingly no effort at all. When she came back down fast and to his middle she latched her legs across his hips and clung to him in helpless laughter. The roar of the crowd broke through her gasping laughs and she heard the applause behind them. 

Walt set her back down and the band gave an ending trump, bring the number to a close. 

“I need another drink,” she told him after she managed to catch her breath. 

“Your wish is my command,” he said, catching her hand before he led her toward the bar. The green in his eyes darkened, beckoning, as he helped her onto the stool. 

“And what does the lady desire now?” 

“Are you really asking?” Her brow cocked as she dipped a discreet hand beneath the flap of his jacket, squeezing his waist. 

Walter snorted, “I meant to drink.” 

“Oh,” she said, coyly withdrawing her hand, but not before he squeezed and caressed the length of it. “You should really be more specific.” 

In truth, all of this was driving him mad – every smile, every touch, every glance was a prelude to what would happen when they finally returned home. There was very little preventing him from guiding her out of the bar, driving straight into her front door, and ravishing her on the nearest surface he could find. But, he wanted to show her a good time, prove to her that they could still be human, despite the chaos of the Trollish world. The muted sound of the saxophone player moved smoothly past his ears, going down as easily as a fine brandy. 

“Sour, sweet, savory…” he murmured lowly, “take your pick.” 

Her eyes, teal in the golden light, creased playfully. She bit her lip, sending a thrill through him that he found difficult to control. 

“Surprise me.”

A glass slid a short distance across the bar and stopped in front of her. It was a pink and orange layered concoction and she had no idea what it might be. 

"Well, I'm surprised," she admitted after a few dumbfounded blinks. She looked up to the bartender to make sure there hadn't been a mistake and said, "We didn't order this."

The bartender looked at her over his glasses and gave a significant nod toward someone down the bar. Barbara leaned forward curiously. 

There was a clean-cut man fidgeting with his stirrer. He was well-dressed and fairly handsome, even though his face was dark with from blushing. He bobbed his head and gave her a nervous wave when their eyes meet. Walter leaned over to see who she was looking at and gave the man a genial smile. To Barbara's delight, the poor man flushed even darker and nearly knocks his drink over giving another wave.

"I wonder which one of us he was buying for," she mused aloud. "It's a compliment either way."

Walter smirked as he picked up the drink and tipped it towards the one who gifted it with a lazy salute before tossing it back and finishing it in three long pulls.

"I think that kind is suppose to be sipped," Barbara said with a fond laugh.

He shrugged and chuckled then gave a wink to the man as he set the glass of ice back down on the bar. Barbara lightly smacked his arm, "We shouldn't flirt back, don't want to get his hopes up when he could be putting his attentions to someone that's actually available." 

Walter nodded and motions the bartender over to order another of the same drink. When it arrived Barbara watched as Walt made his way the few stools over and whispered to the gentleman. She had no idea what was being said but the man laughed and scrunched his shoulders and Walter gave him a pat on the back before coming back to sit beside her once more.

"What did you say to him?" She asks, but Walter merely smirks and kisses her temple before motioning the bartender for another drink.

It’s just as he is about to take a sip, that a large hand shot out from the bar patrons and landed on Walter's left shoulder with an audible smack. Surprised, Walter inhaled some of the pink- orange liquid and began to cough. 

"Strickler! " Lawrence amicably shouted over the music. "Where did you learn to do that?" 

Walter blinked, "how to drink?" 

"How to flirt?" Barbara snickered. 

"Rome for both," Strickler smiled motioning towards his now slightly damp shirt. "Though, clearly I'm better at one over the other."

Lawrence rolled his eyes with a long suffering groan. Of course the man wouldn't just give him a straight answer, he rarely did.

"No, ya bean pole," he said with another friendly slap, "those moves! Where did you learn how to dance like _that_?" 

With a sly smile and an intentional dodge of the question, Walter counted and asked instead, "I have an even better question. What brings _you_ to a place like _this_?" He took in the other man's simple attire, it was far more dressed up than he had ever seen him. With khaki slacks and a maroon polo shirt it wasn't fancy but it was practically high society for the gym coach's usual standards. 

Easily led off topic, Lawrence blushed and blustered, "A man can have layers, ya know?" 

"True enough, I suppose, but I would have never pegged you for such an environment as this." 

The other man's blush darkened and he glanced to Barbara before he admitted, "Actually, I'm here on a date, too." He stepped to the side some and motioned over his shoulder to one of the tables.

A tan woman with bleach blonde hair sat looking at a drink menu. 

"The former Mrs. Palchuk?" 

"Back to Miller for now," he said with a besotted smile.

The blonde’s eyes flicked up to catch sight of her companion, and she squinted at his newfound friends. Recognition dawning on her, she stood and waved at the trio as she approached. 

“Well I’ll be!” She said, as she drew an arm around Coach Lawrence’s waist. “If it isn’t Doctor Lake. She’s treated Steve a bunch of times over the past few months, honey.” She explained to Lawrence, then extended her hand to the doctor. “I can’t keep that child out of trouble.” 

“It’s Karen, right?” Barbara asked as she shook her hand. 

“It’s so nice to see you when I’m _not_ havin’ to bless that boy out for being a knucklehead. And is this Mr. Strickler?” the woman gasped, making a show of it. “I didn’t know y’all two were a thing.” 

“Yes,” Strickler acknowledged as he took Barbara’s hand, squeezing it in apology “for a time, now.” 

“I’ll bet Lake peed his pants!” The Coach chuckled, recalling his own hard times with a student turned prospective son. 

“Don’t y’all be tellin’ Jill Steinhoff, now. You know, Billy’s Mom? She’ll have herself a conniption! That woman’s been prayin’ to land you for months.” She looked at Strickler, seeming to size him up. 

“Oh, erm...” Walter squeezed Barbara’s hand even tighter.

Barbara’s smile could have shamed a hyena as she chuckled, “Yes, I’ve been made aware of Ms. Steinhoff’s ambitions. Don’t worry, she and I cleared everything up already.”

Walter blinked owlishly, wondering when such a conversation could have happened. Before he could ask, Karen threw back her head in a delighted cackle.

“Oh, I like you. We should do dinner sometime! I won’t impose on y’all any further, but Lawrence and I would just love it if you wanted to do a proper double-date sometime.”

“We would?” The Coach seemed more surprised than skeptical.

“Well of course, honey! You need more friends and at this point, your coworkers are as good a start as any.” She turned back to the other couple with a cheery smile, “The invitation is always open! You just let us know.” And with that she tugged her date after her and back to their table.

"That was... unexpected," Walter managed, watching Lawrence and Karen reclaim their table. Lawrence even pulled out a chair for her.

"Hey." Barbara nudged his arm playfully. "You're not the only one who gets hidden depths." 

His lips turned up in a wry smile. "I suppose not." He fell silent to watch the band over her shoulder. They had turned to the sort of calm impromptu that made for excellent ambience, but... 

"What is it?" she asked. 

His hand slid around her waist. "I was rather hoping for another dance," he murmured. 

She smiled and playfully bopped his nose, "As fun as that sounds, and as much fun as the last times were, I'm not a troll with inhuman longevity and I hate to say it, but I am beginning to feel my age right about now."

Walt gently caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. 

"Mmm. My Lady of the Lake is weary? No, that simply won’t do."

“Whether it will or won’t do, it is,” she replied as she shifted her hand over to cup his cheek fondly. 

“Alright, no more dancing,” he conceded as he watched her steal his drink. He smiled as her eyes lit up at the flavor and she took a second, larger sip. He turned back to the band and his fingers itched to do something. His blood was still pumping and he was eager for an outlet. 

Inspiration struck and a sly smile crept across his features. 

“I’ll be back in just a few minutes,” he told her as he slid away from the bar and headed back towards the stage area. 

Barbara only heard the last part of his sentence, content to continue finishing his drink. She turned to to watch him and wondered what he could be up to as he motioned for the bass player closest to the stairs to lean in closer. She felt her stomach flutter in slight apprehension when he motioned for the musician to look her way. 

The thin black man smiled over at her before he leaned over to one of the trombone players and nudged him. The interlude music slowly died off as each member of the band was brought into the conversation. 

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as something pinged at the back of her mind. 

He wouldn't. 

No. NO. 

"No," She says loudly just as he turned his head from the band to motion her over. The musicians laughed and Walt’s shoulders dropped a fraction. Then,without missing a beat, he’s making his way back over to her, weaving through the crowd as she shakes her head the entire time. 

"But Darling," he smirked, "You don't even know what I'm going to ask." 

"I'm not drunk enough to sing on stage while you play the piano, Walt." More laughter from the band.

"Yes you are," His smile widened and he took her hand with a light tug. Barely a suggestion of a grip but she didn’t pull away. 

"No, I'm not." She protested though she was already moving to follow him.

“It’ll be fun,” he assured. 

“You don’t even know which songs I might know. I’m not going to embarrass myself even further by forgetting lyrics.” 

His smile was brilliant by her tacit agreement. He had already thought of that. 

“There’s one that you know. I know you know it, darling.” 

“Walt,” Barbara smiled nervously not taking her eyes off of his as he led her up the stage. 

His smile widened, “Yes, Barbara?” He handed her a microphone. She stared at it for a moment. 

“ _Why don’t you do right?_ ” She sang softly feeling a new surge of confidence when Walt’s eyes flashed red for the briefest of moments. In an instant he was at the piano. A soft steady adagio drifted lazily in the air as his hands passed over the keys with the lightest touch.

“ _Like some other men do?_ ” She grinned as the other band members whistled, surprised.

" _Plenty money in 1922, you let other women make a fool of you. Why don't you do right, like some other men do? Get outta here, get me some money too_ ," The bass had joined in, apparently also familiar with this song. When she faced the rest of the club she was relieved to see that from this view, most tables were cast in shadows. Some of the remaining butterflies settled down at the lack of faces staring at her. She would probably still let him have it over this stunt but she could admit it was fun.

There was a cheap keyboard in her attic but certainly no piano for Walt to cut loose on like this. This was as much a chance for him to show off as it was anything else.

The keys sang on. The runs and falls of the notes sent a shiver down her back and she smiled, realizing that this was a perfect song for him to showcase this particular talent. 

Her cheeks were flushed (whether from the attention or from the alcohol), and she gave her hip a small sway as she took the few steps to stand behind Walter. She was channeling her inner Jessica Rabbit; Jim wasn’t the only one in the family who could dig up a latent thespian flare. 

He didn’t falter a bit when her fingers threaded through his hair while his chased the music. He was getting lost in the keys and having committed herself to this performance, Barbara set out to put on just a good of a show as him. 

“ _Why don't you do right?_ ” Barbara cooed. Warm fingers gently pulling his head back just so. And it was taking all of his concentration to keep his hands on the keys. “ _Like some other men-_ ” 

Walter had half a second to realize what she was going to do before she did and for all his efforts he couldn't control the way the chords stuttered violently the instant she kissed him. His heart thudded in his ears as she pulled away. 

“-- _Do_.” She finished, smiling as she moved her hand to trace his jaw while the bar erupted with a roar. Somehow Lawrence was cheering louder than the rest. Karen gave a sharp wolf-whistle and Barbara could make out their silhouettes among the clapping patrons. 

She laughed and hurriedly put the mic on a stand to head for the stairs while Walter turned over the instrument to the proper pianist. She could hear a little of the exchange between Walt and the band, something like “anytime” was said but she was ready to be out of the spotlight and didn’t linger to listen. 

They were stopped a few times on their way back to the bar and somehow, by the end of it, Barb had a flower that she wasn’t sure where it came from and Walter had a napkin with a phone number written across it. He laughed and kissed her cheek as they got themselves situated back on their stools as people began to turn back to their own conversations and left them return to theirs.

"You were phenomenal love," he smiled as he took the flower from her hands and placed it in her hair.

“I’ll admit, that was fun,” she replied with an answering smile. She placed an order and pat gently at her hair to feel what Walter had done with the small bloom.

“We’ve been invited back,” he said with a wink and laughed as she vehemently shook her head. 

The bartender passed her a Bloody Mary and she accepted it with a smile and a ‘thank you’ then turned back to Walter, “Once was plenty enough, thank you.”

“You _are_ still exceedingly flushed. You nearly match your drink.”

“Ha.” She pulled out the olive and passed it to him before taking a drink. “I think this might be my last drink this evening. I’m already tipsy-- I’m not about to let myself get drunk.” 

What was left of Walter’s order from earlier was nearly all water from the melted ice so he ordered the same as Barbara and scooted back to lean against the counter to admire her warm cheeks. When his drink came he passed her his celery stalk. She nibbled it thoughtfully, while taking in his similarly flushed appearance. 

She moved to brush a wayward strand of hair back into place from his forehead, "And I could say the same to you mister tipsy tomato." Barbara said fondly pointing the celery at him. "You’re about as red as my hair."

"T'is you, fair Lady, who sets my complexion aglow and nothing to do with not being able to hold my liquor."

She kissed him again and whispered, “Liar.” 

His eyes gleamed as he gave her a lazy smirk and looked her up and down. The heat in his veins had settled to a low simmer and her flushed complexion and playful teasing had him ready to retire to a more private setting.

"Alright," she said abruptly, interrupting his thoughts. She stood and scooted her stool back. “Watch my drink. I’ve got to go ‘break the seal’ if you know what I mean.” 

She stepped back, and nearly tumbled over herself as the Bloody Mary took effect. His arm jutted out to catch her, but not before she tried to catch herself along the counter top. Misfortune struck when, with a flailing hand, she tipped her drink. The glass rolled on its side along the bar-top, circling just long enough to drench her dress with bright red liquid. The doctor’s eyes went wide as Walter righted her the rest of the way. 

“Cold,” was all she managed in her frozen surprise as he came at her chest with a napkin. 

“Here, love.” She clutched it to her body, trying to ignore the growing stares, trying, also, to ignore her own violent blushing. 

“Are you alright?” 

Closing her eyes, she let out a long breath. “Yeah...yes, I’m fine. I’ll uh, I’ll go clean up.” 

“Let me help,” he began to stand. 

“No, no,” she stopped him with her hand, “stay with the drinks. I can make it." 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” she tried to wave the rest of her embarrassment away. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” 

With furrowed brows, he watched her drift drift away into the crowd. The barkeeper began to mop away the mess with a cloth. “Sorry,” he muttered with an acquiescing nod, before a tap along his shoulder sent him spinning on the stool to the other side. 

"Hey handsome," a voice drifted out from auburn eyes. "Remember me?"

“Oh, Mrs. Jonson. Yes." He looked her over. Vaguely, a name came to mind. "Your daughter's name was Angie, right? How is she faring these days? And your husband? Jeremy, was it?"

Her smile faltered briefly but it was back in an instant as she pushed her hair behind her ear. 

"Angie is doing well, making an A on every history assignment that comes her way. You must have really left an impression on her, I remember it used to be her least favorite subject." She leaned by him, allowing a view of her cleavage as she caught the bartender's attention and asked for a rum and coke. "But how have you been? We never really got to talk much during school meetings and pep rallies."

The rum and coke sloshed on the counter as the bartender slid the cup between them.

The dubious nature of her response did not elude him. Neither did the ostentatious display of her bosom. 

“Often students find a subject more interesting once they’ve left a class. I take no credit for it.” His eyes drifted over to the bottles along the wall, taking in the myriad of colors. The breasts didn’t seem to go away. In fact, in his periphery they seemed to be drawing closer. 

“Still shining the apple!” He nearly shouted, as if trying to get them to go away. Although, he didn’t take much stock in this aspect of the human form, he found it difficult to keep his eyes trained. Taking a swig of his bloody brew, he blinked forward. “I’m afraid I was never much for pep rallies. Too many hormones mucking about. I tried my best to get out of chaperoning. Not always successful. Such are the woes of an educator.” 

"Where are you, my dear doctor?" He added in a mutter to himself as he looked around.

She laughed as she took a sip of her drink and patted his arm. "I don't doubt it! But, for all that supposed stress, you've done a mighty fine job of not letting it show. A man of many talents it would seem. Speaking of! It was your performance on the piano just now that I even realized you were here. I didn't know you could play! I studied for six years, not quite a professional but I certainly have some _skill with my hands_."

His arms stiffened, as did his spine. For a man well versed in the art of coercion and the utility of beguilement, he was having a terrible time on the receiving end. His pupils made a slow and disciplined journey to look her only in the eyes, jaw going rigid at her implications. 

“I’m chuffed, really,” he said of the complement, mind straining for an escape. “Perhaps you should use that good skill to impress the other patrons. I’m sure that they would love another show.”

She gave him a slow smile and chuckled, "I think I'll leave it to the band. They're the ones trying to get paid tonight. Besides, I don't think anything could top your talented fingers." Her own fingers trailed briefly across the small of his back. 

"Sorry," she said when he jumped, "you had a bit of lint stuck to you." To his surprise there was a little clump of fuzz between her fingers when she brought them back around. Even the bartender looked surprised, having been unobtrusively watching the attempted pick-up. 

“Oh,” he said, back still straight as a rod as he scooted to the farthest edge of his seat. His hand seemed to be doing its best to push the countertop away. “Oh, lint? Fancy that. I’ll have a word with the cleaners. And my doctor,” he added, with a look at his watch. " _My_ it's getting late."

"It is, isn't it? Are you looking to leave soon? I'd be more than happy to walk you to your car." It was clear that she could tell he was flustered. Her smile was all too knowing and yet the hints of disinterest he was sending were not hitting their mark.

“Oh no, I’m afraid I’m waiting on—oh no!” 

And so it was that Walter made another attempt to back away on the stool, leveraging an elbow along the bar for which promptly slipped and rammed into his drink. Ice and runny tomato juice came pouring into his lap, along with half a celery stalk. His frozen squeak was not unlike his lover’s. Things immediately retracted, sending his hands to his lower extremity as his previously flushed cheeks puffed out in an attempt not to yelp. He was unhappily reminded of an encounter with Mr. Domzalski as his head bowed down in agony.

Walt was not the only one with a look of agony, as the poor bartender glanced mournfully at the floor he was going to have to mop.

"Oh! Are you alright? Oh, here, I've got a napkin, let me help you!"

Somehow, he registered her words. An arm shot out to bar hers from coming any further, and a resounding “No!” came bellowing from his lips. He peeled his forehead away from the countertop. “I’ll take care of it myself, thank you very mu-gah!.”

Something else flew into his lap, and he reeled toward the heavy-handed offender, only to catch its familiar blue eyes. 

“Geez, Walt,” Barbara said as she continued to dab the napkin along his trousers, a faint and knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I said watch the drinks, not dance with them. I can't leave you alone, can I? Do you believe this guy?” She shot a glance at her auburn-eyed contender.

Mrs. Jonson seemed frozen on the spot for several seconds before she recovered herself, recognizing the window of opportunity had officially closed. "Oh, the singer. I hadn't realized you two were an actual couple and not just on stage together as part of the night's entertainment."

"You see a lot of performers lip-locking on stage?" Barbara asked dryly.

The other woman's face turned a shade redder. She seemed to straighten a little, clearly going on the defensive. 

"Well, in this day and age, nothing would surprise me."

"You're right," Barbara nodded turning back to Walter. "Next time I'll cop a feel so it won’t be up for interpretation." At this she gave his thigh a deliberate squeeze.

"Next time, hm?" Walter asked as he continued to try and discreetly wipe his lap. They were running out of napkins. He was beyond ready to try and extract himself but the other woman didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave. 

Help came from an unexpected source in the form of a familiar, heavy hand smacking him in the back, "Everything alright over here? Looks like you're having some issues, Strickler." 

"Here, hon, I've got some wet wipes in my purse," Karen said, shouldering her way in front of Mrs. Jonson to set her handbag on the counter to dig through it. 

"How'd you manage such a mess? He get you, too, doc?" Lawrence asked as he noticed the dampness on the front of Barbara's dress.

"No," she chuckled gratefully taking the wet wipes and passing them to Walt. "I did that on my own."

Mrs. Jonson stared, suddenly unsure what to do with even more people added to the mix, all of them seemingly content to ignore her. With a small frown of annoyance she did the only thing she could and took the hint. 

"Well, it was nice to see you again, Mr. Strickler. Perhaps we'll run into one another some other time. I'll, uh, just let you go and get yourself cleaned up. Goodnight."

Karen snorted before the woman was even out of earshot. She traded a wink with her own date before turning back to the tomato scented duo.

“Y’all look just about ready to turn in.” Karen said, noting the two’s red-rimmed eyes, “Me and my big strong bear are about to leave, be we just wanted to check in. You need a ride home?”

Walter began fishing for his wallet, "Kind of you to offer but we'll manage, thank you."

He left the cash on the bar, throwing in a few more bills to cover the tip, while Barbara dug through her purse for their keys. Walter nabbed them as they jangled into view.

“Ah, ah,” Karen tutted, swatting at the changeling’s hand. “You’re a bit far gone for that, now.”

The brief spark of irritation at having his hand smacked was short lived and he smiled reassuringly before replying, "I'm touched by your concern but I'm fine, I assure you. I'm nowhere near as drunk as the state of my pants might lead you to believe."

"Even if I were to somehow believe that’s true, a good officer of the law would not-- seeing as the both of you smell like tomato juice and vodka."

Barbara pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, the room swishing along slowly to the motion. She knew she wasn't fit to drive and while she was inclined to believe that Walter's not-quite human nature probably left him fit enough, she had to agree it wasn't worth the risk. Still, she felt a little guilty about accepting a lift from the other couple. 

"Are you sure? We can walk or call a cab. You guys are on a date! I don't want to be responsible for you calling an early night."

“Oh, it’s no problem. We were leaving when we caught Jolene over there trying to put the moves on your man,” Karen assured as she took Barbara’s key’s from Walter. 

Lawrence’s heavy arm settled over Walter’s shoulders as he began leading the man away in a familiar and friendly manner, “Alright you two, let’s get you home.”

Walt stumbled slightly under the other man’s weight but Barbara slipped her arm around his waist with a wink. With her by his side, he allowed himself to be escorted even though he did not need the assistance. Lawrence had always been a very tactile individual, he acknowledged, and so did not pull away until they were outside the club.

Karen latched onto her man’s arm and began leading them down the street to a parking area where the two had presumably left their own vehicle. She dug her own set of keys out when they got to their car and unlocked the doors. 

“Where are y’all parked?” 

“The parking garage on 11th street,” Barbara answered as she shimmied into the backseat, moving one of Lawrence’s ball-caps out of the way.

Ten minutes later found Walter and Barb being chauffeured by Lawrence while Karen followed behind him in Barbara’s car. They had, of course, tried to protest but neither would be dissuaded in their self-appointed task of looking after them. 

"It’s what friends are for!" Karen had insisted, effectively cutting off further attempts to argue.

"Hmm, what a night." Barbara murmured leaning into Walters shoulder.

“Agreed.” He turned his head and kissed the top of her hair as he pulled her as close as the seat-belts would allow. His smile was soft when she turned her head to kiss the side of his chin, still determined to use him as a pillow.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, the radio offering background noise with a sports talk-show that only Lawrence seemed interested in. When Barbara took his hand and began rubbing small circles across his knuckles, the embers of desire that had been heating his veins earlier began to revive. He leaned his head down and kissed her cheek.

Barbara shifted and turned to him fully, claiming his lips in a quick press that promised more. 

His hand raised to cup her jaw, a gentle smile forming across his features before he leaned in to kiss her more firmly. He turned toward her, making room for her to lean in further. She was delightfully warm and there was a smile behind her kiss.

"Hey, now!" Lawrence said gruffly, not _quite_ like he'd caught a couple of students behind the bleachers. But it was close enough that he cleared his throat in embarrassment and added a lighter, "Come on." 

"Apologies," Walter offered, though he felt anything but sorry. 

Barbara responded more graciously and then leaned back into her seat. She smirked and murmured, "I guess we should save it." Walter smiled as Barbara's eyes squinted a little in the flash of passing headlights. 

Softly, so that only she could hear him over the radio, he promised, "Only until we're home."

As it happened, getting home didn’t take but a few minutes more. Lawrence pulled along the side of the lawn while Karen put Barbara’s car in the driveway. They traded a few laughs and a promise to go out together sometime in a more official capacity as well as several 'thank-yous' and 'you-didn’t-have-tos.'

Barbara had barely gotten her key in the lock before Walter was pressed against her back, trailing distracting kisses along her shoulders and neck. She leaned back into him as she turned the knob.

“When you said home, I at least thought we’d make it through the door.”

“I have been an exceedingly patient man all evening,” he said and scooped her up into his arms to carry her across the threshold. “I’ve reached my limit and intend to collect. Do you have any objections?”

She laughed as she situated herself to hold onto him better. She shook her head, “No objections whatsoever.”

“Good.” He kicked the door closed behind him. He looked down at her and deliberately let his eyes fall to her tomato stained chest, “Now, let’s get you out of these clothes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter who we get as Steve's mom come 3Below and beyond, Karen was so much fun to write and we love her. All we had to go by were the few lines in s2 and in that episode _she most certainly has a twang_.  
>  If you didn't recognize it, Barbara and Walter's song was "Why Don't You Do Right" from _Who Framed Roger Rabbit_.


	3. Tattoos

She had been shocked the first time she had seen him shirtless. Who could have guessed what art lie beneath his sweaters. That first night, her fascination had been near insatiable. Now, the old ink is as familiar as every other part of him and she explores the lines like one walks the oft trod paths of a well loved park. 

Sometimes, in the dark when she is unable to find sleep and unwilling to leave his embrace, Barbara will twist within his arms and wonder at the historical canvas that is his skin. Gently, so as not to wake him, she'll trace the tattoos he has, pondering the story behind them. Her lips will follow along the dark number and war cry of a roman legion etched on his deltoid. Her palm brushes past the waves in tune to the silent rowing of a viking ship sailing to parts unknown.

Sometimes Walter will stir and she stops her silent exploration to watch him. A low murmur escapes him, his brow furrowing briefly, locked as he is within a dream or a memory. Barbara tenderly presses her lips to his pectoral and a rose rises and billows in the wind along with his steady breathing to greet her. 

The tension leaves him, and with a soft sigh he moves just far enough for her studies to continue unhindered. Her fingers splay unreserved with the coils of a great black serpent, winding, untrammeled through sigils of protection to deities whose names haven't been spoken since the pyramids.

All these she knows by heart, having made the effort to discover them, night after night. Never tiring of the repetition for there is always something new to find. There is one that she cannot help but marvel at, something trollish and foreign in meaning but no doubt of significance to him, for it is the most prominent on his personal tapestry. Barbara imagines that once it was a magnificent colossus, a symbol of status, perhaps, though now it was cracked and broken, the cruel haphazard result of an intentional piercing of a sword or a perhaps an arrow. She does not know, and though Walter is often willing to reminisce with her of times long past, on this particular story he remains quiet, refusing to give words to something he'd rather forget. She does not ask, instead she lays her palm against the silver veins and follows with her fingers the various trails the scars have paved. 

It is here, as always when she comes to this old ruin, that she notices the subtle change in him. Not stopping her fingers from their movement, Barbara looks up to meet his gaze. The darkness of the night has collected in shadows under his eyes and makes the pair of emeralds glitter impossibly bright. They peer back at her with warm fondness.

He blearily blinks at her, a soft smile forming on his features. In silence Barbara slides her hand upward, drawing a finger unevenly along the bridge of his nose and leans towards his mouth, misses, and kisses his chin. She gives a tired grin as her actions elicit a chuckle from him. 

He pulls her closer, his lips press against her jaw, her cheek, her forehead, slow and sleepy. Barbara rests her head against his chest, just above his heart. She listens closely as the Nautical star beneath her beats slow and steady, a reliable guide that leads her back home and lulls her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe this chapter happened because we all were laughing and complaining about the lack of diverse wardrobes within the show and how Walter is out and about in California weather in a jacket and turtleneck! Then FoxLight made an offhand joke about how his outfit was to hide his tattoos. Naturally, we couldn't just let it end there.


End file.
